In this week’s sedrah we are introduced to the mitzvah of terumas hadeshen, the removal of some ash from the previous day’s korbanos from the top of the mizbeach, clearing the way for the new day’s avodah. ֹאכַל הָאֵשׁ אֶת הָעֹלָה עַל תֶשֶׁן אֲשֶׁר וְהֵרִים אֶת הַדֵחַ בֵחַ וְשָׂ מוֹ אֵצֶל הַמִּזְבֵּחַ – And the kohen should lift off the ash which the fire had consumed of the olah and he should place it down near the altar (Vayikra 6:3).
And because the terumas hadeshen was the first avodah in the morning, a special significance was lent to the mitzvah and there was therefore competition among the kohanim over who should have the privilege of doing this avodah.
Now, when it came to distributing the various services of the Beis Hamikdash, they didn’t cast lots. Casting a lot means that from heaven they’re giving you a certain zechus, a certain merit; but in the olden days they didn’t want to be ‘given’ the merit as a free lunch. They wanted to earn it.
Racing in the Mikdash
And how did you earn it? With your legs. An official of the kohanim would give the signal to begin the race and all the kohanim would begin running to see who would get there first. And the man whose heart was most in it would win. That’s the theory at least, that the man whose heart is most earnest, his feet moved the fastest. In general, it’s a pretty good indication; it shows that his heart is most interested. And so when the time came for terumas hadeshen they relied on the feet of the kohanim to decide: ‘May the best man win!’
Imagine the picture now: It’s still somewhat dark – the race took place before dawn – but the Beis Hamikdash is full of people already. The kohanim are not late-risers; they were up very early in the morning waiting. ֹהֲ נִ ים זְ רִ יזִ ים הֵ ם – Kohanim are people of alacrity (Shabbos 20a), and all of them wanted the zechus. And so they’re standing there waiting for the signal.
But not just waiting. There’s a nervous tension in the air because their hearts are burning with an agitated desire: ‘At least once in my life I should seize this mitzvah! One day I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren and great-grandchildren about it; that their zeide once was zocheh to the terumas hadeshen in the House of Hashem.’
Fighting to the Finish
The signal is given and there’s a big rush forward; and he begins to run along with his fellow kohanin. His feet are weary from traveling to Yerushalayim but his heart is pumping – his heart is carrying his feet – and he’s running with all of his kochos. And he knows that he’ll surely get it. After all, he wants it more than all the others.
But now he sees a fellow kohen who, like him, is desirous of this mitzvah – maybe even more than himself – and he’s catching up to him, trying to overtake him. They’re running side by side and as they approach the mizbeach, the finish line, this upstart is suddenly picking up speed; he’s going faster and he’s forging ahead.
So our kohen, his heart became so full of bitterness – he came especially from the other end of Eretz Yisroel for this mitzvah. He had been up all night waiting and he’s running now with all of his koach; but this dark horse who had maybe sauntered his way to the starting point at the last moment is pulling ahead now. Oh, the bitterness! There are no second-place trophies when it comes to the terumas hadeshen.
What happened? Our kohen lost control of himself; in his despair he went berserk. He was running with a knife – kohanim have knives that they need for the avodah – and he took that knife and in his bitter lunacy he plunged it into the heart of his ‘challenger’. His heart!
And now this young kohen is rolling in his blood. He’s laying on the floor bleeding out; he’s dying in the azarah and the whole Mikdash is thunderstruck! A terrible day in the history of the Beis Hamikdash: a kohen stabbed by a fellow kohen.
New Procedures
Now, there’s a lot more to this story, about what happened when this dying kohen’s father came upon the scene. If you wish you can look inside in Mesichta Yuma (23a) and read more about it. But I want to move past that and tell you the changes that were made in the procedures of the avodas Beis Hamikdash as a result of that tragedy.
Such a thing never happened before! Not only it never happened but it was unimaginable! They couldn’t let such a tragedy pass by, and so, at that time – there was another incident too; a kohen was pushed and he broke a leg – and so when the Sages noticed a pattern, they instituted a change in the protocols of distributing the avodah.
At that time they introduced the ‘payas’; from now on we’ll give out the avodas Beis Hamikdash by means of casting lots. Yes, we’ll lose out on the advantages of the original method, the method that provides for the most dedicated one to achieve, but what can we do? It’s too much what happened today.
Lots of Lots
And so, everybody came together now for the payas. Instead of gathering together before dawn to race, they gathered for a payas, a lottery.
But that payas was only for the morning service. Afterwards, later in the morning, they gathered together again. From all corners of Har Habayis the kohanim gathered again. It was a big tumult, a commotion, and they came together and they made another payas for the next group of avodos.
And then later, a third time! They’re all coming together again for another payas. A big clamor of excitement. It’s time to gather again. And then a little later, a fourth time!
Now our Sages are efficiency-minded, and so the Gemara asks a kashe: What’s this for? לָ מּ ָ ה מְ פִ י סִ י ן מְ פִיסִ ין וְחוֹזְרִ ין ו – What’s the purpose of coming together once and twice and three and four times? (Yuma 24b). Why make a tumult so many times in one day? It seems superfluous. When they do that first payas early in the morning, they can keep going and allocate all of the avodos of the day. So לָ מּ ָ ה מְ פִ י סִ י ן מְ פִיסִ ין וְחוֹזְרִ ין ו? Why gather all the kohanim together so many times? To make such a big fuss again and again? It seems superfluous.
Kosher Commotion
And the Gemara answers like this: ִישׁ אֶ ת כְדֵ י לְהַרְ גִּישׁ הָ עֲ זָ רָ ה – in order to make a fuss in the Azarah. It means we want a commotion; we want there to be a clamor, a noise. And Rashi explains, לְ הַ שׁ ְ מִ י עַ ק ו ֹ ל כָבוֹד לַמֶּלֶך א כַמָּה פְּעָמִים שֶׁ הוּא הֲמוֹן עַם רַ ב כ – to make noise of a big crowd in the Beis Hamikdash again and again because that’s an honor for the King when people show that they are excited over His service.
They could have done it more efficiently, quietly. They could have arranged it beforehand and everybody would have gotten a little ticket and been given his assignment. And it would be quiet; no noise at all.
But that’s no good. That you do, let’s say, when you want a seat on the stock market, so they assign you a seat and you walk over quietly. Or at a wedding, they give you a ticket and you walk over to your seat. But when it comes to the service of Hakadosh Baruch Hu, the Chachomim wanted to teach us an important attitude. Noise means excitement, importance; and because Sages want us to know that excitement is for Hashem they arranged therefore this procedure. Again and again everyone should run together in a disorganized manner because it makes a tumult and everybody looks, “What are they running for? What’s going on?”
“Oh, they’re running for Hakadosh Baruch Hu. They’re running because each one wants the mitzvah; each one wants the honor, the zechus of serving Hakadosh Baruch Hu!”
Noisy Traditions
Now where did they learn this from, that you have to make a noise? We’re a nation of tradition after all. The Sages aren’t going to establish a procedure, a protocol, for the Beis Hamikdash willy-nilly. I told you once that we’re a stubborn nation. It’s a praise. We stick to our traditions and therefore whatever we do is not new. They had to learn it from someplace.
The answer is they learned it from big experts. Because Yeshayah and Yechezkel HaNavi, these two nevi’im, describe for us what they both saw in a nevuah, a prophecy, how the malachim, the angels, serve Hashem. There were over a hundred years between these two neviim, but both saw similar nevuahs; they witnessed in their vision how the Heavenly Hosts were saying kedushah and they described it for us in detail.
Now, the question is what was the purpose of revealing this vision? What business is it ours what angels do?
And the answer is, it’s given to us as a model for our function in this world. ָעוֹלָם בֵ שׁ אֶת שִׁ מְך נְקַד – We sanctify Your Name, י שׁ ִ י ם שׁ ֵ ם שׁ ֶ מּ ַ קְ ד כ – just like the angels do. They’re our models.
Rising and Shouting
And what do we see? How do they praise Hashem? ְׂ אִ י ם מִ תְ נַ ש – They rise up. But not like we rise. We rise on tiptoe when we say kedushah just to imitate the malachim; we rise maybe two inches. When the malachim rise, they rise like jets, like rockets! A million miles! We have no way of describing space for them.
And they don’t say it coldly like we do. וָ אֶ שׁ ְ מַ ע ָדוֹל אַ חֲ רַ י קוֹל רַ עַ שׁ ג – And I heard a loud and great voice (Yechezkel 3:12). That’s how the Navi describes the sound of malachim. When the time comes for them to declare their shirah, they get excited about it and they do it ָ ד ו ֹ ל רַ עַ שׁ גּ ב, with loud noises! Ra’ash means a great noise. But not only ra’ash. ָ ד ו ֹ ל רַ עַ שׁ ג – A tremendously great noise! With enthusiasm! The greatest enthusiasm that the world would ever see!
Shouting to Him
For what? What are they excited about? כָבוֹד ה' מִמְּ קוֹמוֹ. They’re going meshuge about the glory of Hashem. Not like we say it; when we say those words we’re half asleep. We’re not excited at all. I once saw a man yawn during kedushah. “Boruch kevod, yaaaawwwwn, Hashem mim’komo.”
But suppose after he finishes davening, he comes home and he sits down to breakfast. Did you ever see a man yawn at breakfast? You’ll have to wait a long time before you see it. Because you don’t yawn when you’re busy with important things. So next time you think about yawning in davenen, think about it a second time. And even if inside you’re asleep, at least outwardly don’t show it.
That’s what the malachim are teaching you, that excitement is for Hashem. They know that this is what noise is for.
And that, the Sages are teaching us, is the Torah derech, the Jewish way of living. Some people think they know the Jewish way. “The Jewish way means to eat gefilte fish or to speak Ivrit and hang out a blue and white flag.” No, that’s not it. Even speaking Yiddish is not yet the Jewish way. The Jewish way is to be excited about Hashem and anything connected to Him, to His service. Anything that’s pious, anything that’s Torah, we make a big fuss about it. That’s our way.
